CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
‘Thank you, Sir Lucius. I am much obliged.’ She bestowed a preternaturally bright smile upon him, and took five shillings from her reticule. ‘Behold, how I dare so much.’
She dropped the coins into his gloved hand, and he withdrew to place her bet.
Lord Easby was regretting that the previous evening he had lingered so long over the tables in a select establishment in Pall Mall, to which he had withdrawn after a galling encounter with Aurelia Rendlesham.
He had risen over a thousand pounds down, and with a presentiment of a bad 243head on the morrow, which had been fulfilled.
His ‘setback’, to put it no higher, with Miss Ashling, compounded by the fact that Lucius Radstock looked in a good way to winning her hand, had made him maudlin, and from maudlin he had gone on to a feeling of failure.
Miss Ashling was therefore the cause of his misfortune.
The chance of replenishing his empty coffers upon Epsom Downs had drawn him out of Town and gave him other things to think about than Miss Ashling as some form of Nemesis.
It was therefore somewhat of a shock to see her, although logic said that anybody who adored horses would be delighted to attend this particular race day.
The sight of her dropping coin into Sir Lucius’s hand galled him unnaturally.
It was at this moment that he felt a movement of his gold fob, and shot out a hand to grasp the scruff of a very small and grubby pickpocket. His lip curled in distaste. It was a very malodorous child.
‘You picked the wrong victim, you slippery-fingered urchin. The constable will be pleased to see you, as might yet the hangman.’
‘Nah, me lord, I wasn’t doin’ nuffin’, jest passin’ by. Don’t go an’ give me to no harman.’
‘With your fingers at my fob. Indeed. I wonder how many other people you have relieved of items of value this day?’ He paused, and a speculative look came into his eyes.
Most men would have accepted that they had no chance remaining with Miss Ashling, but despite his seeming nonchalance to Lady Rendlesham, he loathed being beaten.
He had an idea that might put himself back in her good 244books.
‘However, I might be persuaded to, er, overlook your criminal tendencies, if you were to do something for me.’
The child stopped wriggling, and eyed his captor with suspicion.
‘You see the young lady over there, beside the lady with the big green bonnet?’
‘The swell mort? Course.’
‘Er yes. Well, if you take her purse, and then let me catch you …’
‘Wot, an’ be taken off jest the same to—’
‘Listen.’ The voice of authority stilled the boy to a whimper. ‘I will drag you away, but release you, and even give you a shilling, which is far more than you deserve, since that would be transportation at the least.’
‘And I keeps the bung?’
Easby frowned.
‘The purse, guv’nor.’
‘You most certainly do not. I return it to the lady. Now, off with you, and do not try to disappear in the crowd, because I will be sure to find you and raise a hue and cry.’
He released the infant thief, who paused for a moment, indecisive, and then shrugged and, like an eel, slipped silently between the throng to where Lady Chalford was recommending that Amelia take Lord Nuneaton’s advice.
How it was that Amelia’s reticule was slipped from her wrist, she could not say, but she felt the tug, as was intended on this occasion, and gasped, then cried out.
Lord Nuneaton blinked, and stepped backwards, treading on the toes of another gentleman, who made vociferous complaint.
In the meantime, Lord Carbrooke, who had been about 245to offer his own services to lay Miss Amelia’s bets and was in the process of removing his hat, dropped it and hared off after the thief like greased lightning, successfully grabbing the frayed collar, just as Lord Easby had hoped to do.
Amid some outcry and bustle, Lord Carbrooke, breathing just a little faster than normal, frogmarched his prisoner back to the side of the parade ring, where Miss Ashling – who had only moved a few paces to get right to the parade ring rail – had returned, and was trying to calm both Lady Chalford and a tearful Amelia.
‘Miss Ashling,’ Carbrooke addressed Amelia, who was clutching his dropped hat in a manner that might do permanent damage to the brim, and tore the purse from the grip of the thief. ‘Do not be distressed. Your purse is safe.’
Amelia took a sobbing breath and looked up into Lord Carbrooke’s eyes with such adoring thanks as quite took what breath he still possessed from his body.
Easby, realising the error made by his unwilling minion, had no desire that the urchin should reveal all in an attempt to gain release, and therefore stepped up promptly and spoke with calm authority.
‘Good man, Carbrooke. Might I suggest you let me take this object to the constable or whoever is in authority here, whilst you calm the young lady’s natural, er, alarm?’
Lord Carbrooke was still mesmerised by Amelia’s wide eyes, and let the child be taken from him without so much as a murmur. Lord Easby dragged the miscreant away, and, when sufficiently out of the way of onlookers, shook him until his rather gapped teeth rattled.
‘Fool. That was the wrong lady.’
246‘Wot abaht me bord? Yer promised me a bord.’
The noble lord clipped him sharply about the ear. ‘That is all you will get from me, and think yourself lucky for it. Now, disappear, for if I see you here the rest of this day, you will end it in irons, understand?’
Rubbing his ear, the child nodded, sniffed and made himself scarce.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was making every effort to prevent an embarrassing scene.
Lord Nuneaton was still involved in an altercation with the man upon whose toes he had so heavily trodden.
Lady Chalford was wavering on the verge of mild hysteria, and Amelia and Carbrooke were gazing at each other as if each were the recipient of a revelation.
Elizabeth first addressed the problem of Lady Chalford, asking Lady Micheldever whether she possessed any smelling salts within her reticule and, when these were produced, wafting them gently beneath her aunt’s nose, which made that lady gasp and blink.
‘Be calm, Aunt. Nothing dreadful has happened and all is resolved.’
At that moment, Sir Lucius and Lord Godmanchester returned from placing bets.
One glance at the tableau before him was enough to give Sir Lucius a very firm idea of the situation, and he immediately took control.
He whispered to his friend to sort out Nuneaton, and took Lady Chalford’s arm in a sustaining manner, speaking very calmly and leading her back towards her carriage.
Elizabeth pushed Julia Wingate, who was looking at Amelia and Lord Carbrooke, in the back, and suggested that she and Lady 247Micheldever should also retire to the carriage, from whence they might view the racing itself in safety.
Amelia finally blinked, and with a shy smile offered her hero his hat. ‘You were so fleet, I scarcely had time … So brave … No words …’
Lord Carbrooke blushed, and swallowed rather hard. He wasn’t used to being looked upon in an heroic light, let alone by a girl with whom he was fast falling headlong in love. ‘Not heroic … Just a scrubby urchin.’
‘But he might have been part of a vicious gang,’ whispered Amelia, her eyes becoming even more saucer-like as she imagined the peril into which her champion might have put himself.
Lord Carbrooke had not considered this, but swept it aside with aplomb. ‘For you, any price would be worth paying.’
Had Elizabeth heard this declaration she would have undoubtedly sneered, but Amelia was no cynic.
Her lip trembled, and unconsciously her hand went out to lay upon his arm.
He closed his fingers over it. Godmanchester, not wishful of seeing a scene worthy of Romeo and Juliet, whispered in Lord Carbrooke’s ear that he was drawing attention and would be better to take Miss Amelia back to the carriages.
He then returned to smoothing relations between Lord Nuneaton and the man of the trampled toes.
By the time Sir Lucius and Elizabeth returned, Lord Godmanchester was able to give them a wry smile, and announce that Lord Nuneaton had been persuaded to seek some refreshment.
248‘And we have missed the race, just to complete our delight.’
‘Oh well, I wonder who won?’ Elizabeth retained some interest.
‘Waterboatman, by a short head.’
‘From?’ Sir Lucius raised an eyebrow.
‘Pedagogue.’ The smile broadened. ‘You only just lost your shillings, Miss Ashling.’
‘At the risk of sending good money after bad, I shall risk another two on the next race, and hope to be more fortunate.’
There followed a very good-hearted argument between Lord Godmanchester and his best friend concerning the merits of Triplicate over Do-As-You-Wish, in which Miss Ashling sided with Sir Lucius.
They both put their money on the former, though the odds were quite short, and it dutifully won.
Miss Ashling, holding ten shillings in her palm, was delighted with her success.
Sir Lucius, whose bet had been considerably larger, was delighted not so much with his winnings as with his companion.
It was as though she had finally sloughed off a skin of suspicion and caution, and the Elizabeth Ashling he had glimpsed upon Mist was revealed in all her golden glory.
Lord Godmanchester kept his thoughts to himself as he watched them, and hoped his news would please his poor Helen upon their return.
Lord Carbrooke had persuaded Lady Chalford that his close attendance upon Miss Amelia would render it safe for her to watch the parade of the horses before the Derby itself, and it was a glowing Amelia who met her cousin as 249the thoroughbreds were duly walked around the paddock.
A couple were on the fret and on their toes, showing signs of sweating and agitation.
Elizabeth studied both the animals and their ancestry, but could not make a firm decision between her final two.
‘At the risk of sounding patronising, Miss Ashling, the only thing you have not considered is the trainer. Merrymaker is a fine animal, but Azor is a Selim colt and trained by Robson, who has already trained four Derby winners, his last being Whisker, two years ago. If the two look equal to you, add that into the equation. And I also spoke to Payne, the owner, last month and he said that he thought Azor would be at the peak of his form about now, though I know Robson thinks his other runner a better bet. I might also add that Azor would give you very good odds at fifty to one.’
‘Oh dear, I do so hate vacillation, but it is very difficult. My head tells me to go with what you say, Sir Lucius, but my heart tells me to be wilful and independent, and with things equine I will listen to my heart.’ She paused, looking him straight in the eye, and what she saw made her suddenly drop her gaze and a frown appear between her brows.
‘I will trust you,’ she whispered, and it seemed to cost her much to say it.
Then she took a deep breath and looked up again, holding out her hand.
‘And in token of that trust, here are my winnings to go upon Azor.’
Lucius Radstock had never wanted a horse that was not his own to win as much as he did Azor, as the field thundered round Tattenham Corner.
Azor had taken an early lead but gradually the rest of the field was catching 250him up.
Beside him, he could feel Elizabeth’s excitement, see her little, gloved hands, clenched with tension.
Into the last furlong Elizabeth was convinced Azor would fade, despite her hopes.
As the colt passed the post first by half a length, she gave a little jump and turned a face wreathed in smiles to him.
‘He did it!’
He felt that at that moment, were it not for the very public nature of their position, that she could have kissed him, and he knew that he wanted so very much to kiss her.
Godmanchester clapped him on the back, but it was the brief touch of her fingers upon his arm that he felt.
Her eyes shone, and then, as if a cloud passed in front of the sun, that delight was occluded by a doubt, a wariness and a sudden sadness.
His look questioned, but he said nothing, and he led her without further speech back to the carriages, where Amelia was happily bemoaning losing her coin upon an also-ran called Wishful Thinking.
When Sir Lucius returned with her winnings, which amounted to the impressive sum of twenty-five pounds, Elizabeth was clearly delighted by the success, but that mystifying air of sadness remained beneath the public face of victory.
She pleaded over exertion and did not do more than watch the last two races from the carriage vantage point, and when, for the return journey, Amelia and Lord Carbrooke accompanied her and her aunt in the barouche, she added very little to the conversation, and she was content to listen as Amelia chattered away with the hint of a blush, and Carbrooke fought the urge to gaze solely upon those soft, pink cheeks.
251In the phaeton, Sir Lucius was also rather quiet. Giles Godmanchester looked sideways at him.
‘A good day’s sport, Lucius. How much did you put on Azor?’
‘A pony.’ Sir Lucius smiled, as Lord Godmanchester gave a low whistle.
‘Either you were very confident or very lucky. That will keep your stud in oats a decent while. You know, I really thought Manfred would beat them all.’ He sighed. ‘I am glad you won, though.’
‘I am not convinced,’ remarked Sir Lucius, feathering a corner with precision, ‘that I have yet won at all.’
With which cryptic utterance, Lord Godmanchester had to be content.